Forget all those Carnival season rankings and the online polls. A lot of New Orleanians I know would say that this year's best parade came three days after Mardi Gras. There were floats, which didn't move, and dancing groups, at least one of which did.

It was a parade with a very specific purpose, inspired by an 11-year-old girl with autism named Emily Mueller and her mother Amy, who wrote a heartbreaking blog entry on nolafemmes.com last week describing how her Carnival-loving daughter had eagerly counted down the days until the Krewe of Muses rolled, only to be driven from the route in tears by an intoxicated jerk who loudly labeled her a "retard."

Amy Mueller's moving lament quickly went viral and drew tens of thousands of page hits, hundreds of messages of anger and support and countless offers to do something to make it right. So Friday, Muses leaders and a whole lot of others decided to give Emily the party she should have gotten in the first place.

(Full disclosure: I'm a member of Muses, although I did not ride this year and did not participate in organizing the event.)

To understand how prominent a nerve Emily's story touched, take a spin through the blog's comment sections. There were testimonials from parents of special needs kids about similar situations, expressions of frustration with coarseness on the parade route and fury over the very idea that the bright light in a vulnerable child's eye could be so thoughtlessly snuffed out by an adult, to use the term loosely. There were also warmhearted offers of emotionally safe places where the family could watch next year's festivities.

Not many said so, but I wonder whether some of those comments were tinged with guilt over a time when the writer might have seen similarly hurtful behavior and not spoken up. So, good for Amy for eloquently reminding us that both our actions and our inaction can have devastating consequences.

My favorites comments, though, were the ones from Carnival participants sickened that their attempt to spread joy led to pain. After reading that Emily loves Mardi Gras because that's when she doesn't feel different, they wanted her to know that she, not her tormenter, is the one who belongs.

That was the message to the unnamed perpetrator, too, as well as anyone else who has done the same thing or might in the future: You think you're so cool, so tough, so funny? Well, this is what the rest of us think of you.

Friday at the Muses' Central City den, the "rest of us" included a motley krewe gathered on short notice -- Muses in costume, Muses out of costume, members of marching groups that take part in the parade and others that just wanted to be there.

A clump of 610 Stompers boogied as Emily entered, and Rolling Elvi, Big Easy Roller Girls, Pussyfooters, MuffALottas and one member of the Noisician Coalition armed with a rubber chicken formed a long receiving line, presenting her with beads, masks, boas and glitter shoes. A social club called NOLA Wenches asked Emily to be their queen for a day. All this as they tried not to overwhelm their new young friend.

For her part, Emily held up beautifully, often smiling shyly under her funky new purple, green and gold hat and behind Elvi-supplied oversized shades. She got to climb on a float, and slurp a king cake flavored snowball donated by the owners of Nola Snow, who read about the event on Facebook and rushed over.

It would be wonderful if this undid the damage, erased that ugly word from her head. But even an outpouring like the one last week can't turn back the clock.

So let's call the ebullient response to Emily's tale the second-best thing that could have occurred.

This is one feel-good story that should never have had to happen. Next time, hopefully, it won't.